There must be some kind of way out of here
Said the joker to the thief
There's much too much confusion
I cant get no relief
Businessman they drink my wine
Plow men dig my earth
None of them went on the line
Know what it's worth, they don't know
No reason to get excited
The thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I we've been through that
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
The hour's getting late
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Bare foot servants too
But outside in the cold distance
A wild cat did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl
Writer(s): Bob Dylan
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